Friday morning I got a text that Donald Miller was going to be speaking in town that very night. Holy cats, how was it that Donald Miller, the Donald Miller, was coming to my little town and I didn’t know about it? I immediately bought myself a ticket.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that he was speaking at a Moral Revolution conference. Not that my morals don’t need a little revolution now and then, but the focus that evening seemed to be on pursuing purity in one’s sexuality. And since I’ve been happily married like a thousand years, not everything applied to me. Or at least not in the way I expected.
Donald Miller in his warm, self-deprecating manner compelled the women in the audience to really think about what they want in a future husband. He did this hilarious bit on listening to your eggs, yes ladies those eggs, because they will tell you if the person you’ve got in mind is indeed a good choice for the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. You can see where it didn’t apply to me so much, you know, since I’m an old married lady and stuff.
Except that it did apply to me. Completely. As Don continued, he urged the women in the room to think about the things they want in a mate, to write them down in a list. He specifically mentioned that women should hold men responsible for being hardworking, loving, spiritually engaged, trustworthy, honest and devoted.
I watched the ladies in the room around me mentally making their Man Wishlists and it struck me that Terry is all of those things. And so much more. Add to the list smart, funny, caring, financially responsible, athletic, and organized. Just to name a few. I sat in my chair, grinning like a fool because I knew just how good I’ve got it.
Not that our marriage is always easy. Don compared marriage to climbing a mountain. I think it’s more like rock climbing, but that’s another post. The point is, marriage is work, hard work. Sometimes exhausting to the bone work. But it’s good work. And so worth it when you’ve got a got a good man doing the work with you.
After speaking, Donald Miller signed books. I’d brought my favorite and stood in line, thinking of a brilliant thing to say to him about how much I loved his book. Maybe I’d even tell him about how when I ride my bike, the really meaty passages keep my brain busy for hours over mountains and through plains when I’m working out the details who I want to be in life.
Then it was my turn to get my book signed. I handed Don my book and he asked who to make it out to. I spelled out my name.
And then I just stood there.
I racked my brain for those brilliant things that were there just a second ago.
My brain did this:
Your brain is experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by.
Gah! Then my brain fished way back in the recesses. I blurted out “When are you going to bring back Sunday music?” I cringed. So lame. Donald answered graciously that he’d try to get some more up when he had a chance. ‘Cause he’s not busy writing books and running a huge mentoring project or speaking around the world or anything.
I willed my brain to say something intelligent or at least not demanding of his time. As he finished signing my book, I said “Thanks for speaking tonight. I really appreciated it. I’m going to go home and tell my husband what a good man he is.” Donald Miller looked up at me and smiled “That will make his day.”
And then I took my book and walked away before I could embarrass myself any further.
When I got home I told Terry what a good man he is. He looked a little surprised. I relayed what Don had talked about that night. I told Terry that is was a really great night because it reminded me how lucky I am that the man of my dreams and the man I married are one in the same.
And because my good man deserves a good woman, I’m going to make sure I tell him that more often.
I’ve come to love the sound of your snores. In the quiet of night, your snoring is the sound I listen for. In fact, it’s my favorite sound, the one I want to hear all the days of my life.
So the thing I love more than love is love that has been worn thin. Love that has broken into shards. Love that has taken on water fast and is listing badly. You might be thinking that’s a bit of a metaphor overload. If so, to you I say count your blessings. Others know with painful precision what I’m talking about. You, dear ones, know that it’s possible to be frayed, shattered, and sinking all at once.
